


Four Times Merlin Cock-Blocked Arthur, and One Time He Didn't

by Signe (oxoniensis)



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Cock-Blocking, First Time, Humor, M/M, Sheep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-26
Updated: 2009-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxoniensis/pseuds/Signe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rumours about Arthur and sheep are just unfortunate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Merlin Cock-Blocked Arthur, and One Time He Didn't

He doesn't mean to the first time. Truly. It was an honest mistake.

*

The hunt is more of an adventure than a true hunt, way up into the northern part of the kingdom. The mountains are high and even the valleys cold, and many of the beasts that live there are strange and dangerous. Arthur handpicks the knights—his favourites and the newest ones who he wants to test—and, for some unknown reason, insists that Merlin comes along too.

Merlin puts on his best incompetent servant expression. "But you know I'm useless on hunts. I get your signals wrong and step on twigs at exactly the wrong moment and—"

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "You do realise it's a privilege to come on a hunt with me, right?"

"Um." Merlin grimaces.

"Anyway, my mind's made up, and you're coming with me. You don't get to pick and chose your jobs as my manservant," Arthur points out, with the usual gleefully arrogant expression he gets when he's bossing Merlin around.

"_That_ I know," Merlin says, heartfelt. He still has the stench of manure in his nostrils—and on his hands and clothes—from cleaning Arthur's boots earlier. He has a feeling Arthur stepped into the mess deliberately—one lump of dung in the entire courtyard, and Arthur had to go and step in it.

"Besides, you might actually learn something. And who knows, maybe one day you won't be completely useless." Arthur grins as though he's said something incredibly clever.

*

They bag two wild boar, an alphyn, a twelve point stag, eleven hares and numerous rabbits. The rabbits are for dinner—thankfully, no one wants to risk Merlin cooking it, so his only task is to gut them. Sir Hervis does the cooking. It's surprisingly good. When Merlin tells him so, he offers the recipe, then stutters and stammers and pretends he was offering to teach Merlin to set traps.

Afterwards they all sit around the fire with full bellies telling stories that get more and more improbable as the evening wears on. Eventually Arthur yawns obviously, and everyone takes the hint and settles for the night.

It can't be much later when Merlin startles awake—the fire's still high and golden, not the red of past midnight. He looks for Arthur—he always sleeps next to Merlin on hunts, says he needs to keep an eye on him.

Arthur isn't there.

Merlin sits up and throws off his blanket. He looks around, counting quickly. Arthur's missing, and another knight, though Merlin's not sure who.

Merlin runs through all the things that could have happened to Arthur, and panics. Just a little. A minor panic. Enough for him to sound the alarm, wake the entire camp, and go running into the woods without even thinking to pick up a dagger. A moderate panic maybe.

The woods are very dark. There are tree-roots everywhere, and it feels as though Merlin trips on every one. He doesn't care, just picks himself up and keeps running. He wishes he dare conjure up some light, but there are knights all around.

He's the one to find Arthur. He sees a splash of red through the trees, the red of Arthur's cloak—not the red of blood, it can't be, but his heart races—and he runs faster. He doesn't shout out in case Arthur's facing off some dangerous creature—he doesn't want to distract Arthur at a critical moment.

He skids to a halt when he reaches Arthur.

The good thing is that there are no dangerous creatures and Arthur's clearly unharmed, as is the knight with him. Sir Meliot, Merlin thinks, though it's hard to see in the dim light.

The bad is that he's pretty sure Arthur doesn't want to be rescued. The look on Arthur's face is definitely not the look of a man who's pleased to have been found. It's the look of a prince who's very pissed off indeed. Which is understandable, really, considering that his britches are around his ankles, as are Sir Meliot's. And—oh. Merlin lifts his eyes up quickly.

Neither gets the chance to pull their britches up before Sir Geraint stumbles on them, and then Sir Menaduke. There's an uncomfortable silence, which mostly consists of everyone glaring at Merlin—though Arthur's glare is the only one that actually feels like it's burning a hole through Merlin's body—before Arthur makes himself decent and stalks back to the camp, everyone else following at a safe distance.

"You are the worst manservant ever," Arthur observes the next morning—the only thing he says directly to Merlin all day—and orders everyone back to Camelot a day early.

*

The second time, well, it's not planned or anything; it's not like he was waiting for the opportunity, no matter what Arthur says.

It just happens.

*

Lady Agnes is a widow. A very comely young widow, according to everyone, though personally, Merlin doesn't see the attraction.

Lady Agnes flirts with Arthur at every possible opportunity. She runs into them in the castle corridors and on the ramparts and in the market—and why she'd want to visit the vegetable market Merlin has no idea—and of course Arthur is always obliged to be polite and stop and listen to her babble. He even manages to look pleased to see her, though Merlin can't imagine that he is.

The thing is, her simpering and cooing and inappropriate fondling—Merlin's no prude, but ladies don't put their hands _there_ in public—are really annoying. And Merlin's sure Arthur must be just as irritated by her as Merlin is, no matter how convincingly he smiles at her.

So it's easy, when they run into her yet again, and one of her hands is on Arthur's arm and the other sliding down his flank, and she's gazing up at him as though she wants to eat him, and no one is supposed to look at Arthur like—ahem, well, it's easy to be the concerned manservant. It's not even acting, because that's what he is. He's doing Arthur a favour.

He puts a hand on Arthur's arm (the one not being grasped by Lady Agnes). He pitches his voice just right—soft and sympathetic, and aimed at Arthur's ear as though he's trying to be discreet, but clear enough to carry. "Has that discharge cleared up yet? Maybe I should buy some more wormwort, in case Gaius needs it for another potion?"

Arthur coughs and splutters, and Lady Agnes wrinkles her nose and sidles away quietly.

Merlin's not expecting a thank you or anything—he's just doing his job, after all, because he's not that useless at it, not the protecting Arthur part anyway—but Arthur, instead of being properly grateful, glares at Merlin as though he's trying to burn holes through his skull. Again. He's good at it.

"Are you just—I mean, seriously, do you—argh," Arthur says. And glares some more in lieu of words.

There's no helping some people. Though Merlin does appreciate that Arthur doesn't actually _know_ that Merlin's role is to protect Arthur, that it's his _destiny_. And maybe this isn't _exactly_ the kind of grand moment Merlin has in mind when he thinks about saving Arthur. But still. A good deed's a good deed. A bit of gratitude wouldn't go amiss.

Sending Merlin to the stocks is just uncalled for.

*

Then there's the incident with the sheep. That Merlin put in Arthur's bedchamber. And the resulting little misunderstanding between Arthur and a visiting Princess.

Merlin hears she ran screaming from the room.

The rumours about Arthur and sheep that follow are just unfortunate.

* 

Gwen stops him in the corridor one day. "I think it's really sweet what you're doing. In a strange kind of way. You're so cute, the two of you, well, you know, not cute exactly, I wouldn't call you cute because that would be, well—But I do hope you manage to, you know," she says, and flushes. "Um, that was Lady Morgana calling, I must go." She runs off before Merlin gets a chance to say he didn't hear anyone calling.

He has no idea what on earth she was on about. Women are peculiar creatures.

*

The fourth time it's on Arthur's instructions. No, really.

*

"Apparently, even though you're useless at most things, there's one thing you're really good at."

Merlin casts his mind around for anything other than magic that he's actually good enough at for Arthur to comment on. He can't think of anything, so he waits to find out what Arthur's on about.

"It's Sir Dinas' daughter, Alice."

Merlin is puzzled. "You're saying I'm good with women?"

Arthur stares a minute, mouth open, then falls about laughing. It takes him a long time to compose himself—every time he stops laughing, he looks at Merlin and starts up again—so Merlin waits patiently, arms crossed.

"I'm saying you're good at getting rid of them," Arthur manages eventually, though he's still shaking a bit from the remnants of his laughter. Merlin thinks it's a bit unfair really—Gwen likes him, and Morgana. He's not _that_ bad with women. "Oh, stop pouting, Merlin," Arthur says.

Merlin glares instead.

"Whatever," Arthur says. "Anyway, I want you to get rid of Alice for me."

Merlin looks around quickly to see if anyone else is within hearing range, which is ridiculous because they're alone in Arthur's chambers. "You want me to kill her?" he whispers, horrified.

This time Arthur ends up curled up on the floor with laughter. "I lied," he says, when he finally uncurls. "There are two things you're good at. When I'm king, you'll have to be the court jester."

"Very funny." It isn't.

"Yes, you are. But not someone I'd go to if I wanted an assassination. Which, for the record, I don't. I just want Alice to like me a little less. Well, a lot less. She always smells of sour milk, you know," Arthur adds reflectively. "I think she must bathe in it."

Morgana once told Lady Alice that Arthur likes milky-pale skin. Merlin overheard her. He thinks that probably explains the bathing in milk. He doesn't tell Arthur—Morgana wouldn't forgive him, and he's far more scared of her than Arthur.

"So what you're saying is that a noblewoman has a crush on you and you're not man enough to deal with it," Merlin says, not really thinking too hard.

Arthur's eyes narrow. "Why should I deal with it, when I have a manservant who can?" he asks, and drops his cloak on the floor. Normally he at least drapes it over a chair. Merlin gets the point.

*

He gets his chance the following day.

He has all sorts of ideas—after all, it's not every day that he's given free rein to make Arthur look bad. He has a list of complaints that Arthur could be suffering from, each more embarrassing than the last. He's not sure that Arthur could get all of them at his age, but he doubts that Lady Alice would know that.

He doesn't use a single one of his plans.

Merlin has spent the day trailing Arthur so he'd be there at hand the next time Lady Alice appears—according to Arthur, she has a sixth sense as to how to find him, but Merlin thinks all women have that, and it's not actually magical or anything, just one of those things women are born with and men aren't.

They finally run across her in the corridor, so late in the evening that Arthur's retiring to his chambers for the night, and Merlin forgets his assigned task for a moment.

Arthur sees her first, in the distance, or hears her more probably. He grabs Merlin's arm in warning, and Merlin goes completely blank. He forgets every single one of the complaints he's been amusing himself by thinking about all day. If it weren't for the fact that he can feel when magic is being done, he'd worry a spell had been put on him. But there's no magic in the air. And no thoughts in his mind.

"Merlin," Arthur stage whispers to him in warning, and Merlin doesn't think, just leans against the wall and pulls Arthur in and starts kissing him. Hand on Arthur's arse, pulling him in close, and he can distantly hear the _oh_ of surprise from Lady Alice, and the sound of her walking away quickly.

He doesn't let go too soon. It wouldn't do for Lady Alice to turn around and discover it was all fake. So Merlin makes sure it looks as realistic as possible, and Arthur helps out, moaning quite believably, his hands cupping Merlin's face.

It gets a bit awkward after a while, because Merlin's body hasn't quite got the message that this is all a ruse, so is reacting rather noticeably to the kissing and the touching and the weight of Arthur's body leaning against him. He extricates himself with some difficulty. "Uh, I think that did the trick. I'm sure you won't have any more problems with Lady Alice," Merlin says brightly, inching away further.

Arthur doesn't say anything at first. "Thank you, Merlin, you fulfil your duties admirably," he says eventually, in the sort of tone that makes it sound like he means the exact opposite.

*

The fifth time, well, that's a surprise. Even more of a surprise, that is.

*

Arthur's cranky.

That's not particularly unusual, but the degree of his crankiness, well, that is unusual.

Apparently Merlin isn't the only one to notice it. He hears the knights muttering after practice sessions, most of them staggering off the field bruised and bleeding after rounds with Arthur. Sir Hectimere is carried off to Gaius on a stretcher after Arthur gets particularly forceful in demonstrating a move that Sir Hectimere apparently should have mastered by the time he could walk.

What Merlin doesn't get—actually, there are two things Merlin doesn't get. Why Arthur is this spectacularly bad-tempered, and why everyone is glaring at Merlin as though it's his fault.

It's Morgana who decides to fill him in. Sort of.

She pulls him to one side in the corridor outside Arthur's chamber. She appears to have been lying in wait in an alcove.

"Can't you do something?" she asks him. Merlin doesn't need to ask to be certain she's talking about Arthur. What he's supposed to do, though, isn't so obvious.

He shrugs helplessly.

"You know Arthur," Morgana carries on. "He can't say anything, but it's obvious what's going on."

"It is?" Merlin tries to ask if she could maybe state the obvious a bit more, well, obviously, but Morgana continues as though she hasn't noticed that Merlin's not exactly on the same page as her.

"Naturally if it's too appalling an idea to you, then you shouldn't. But I don't think it is, is it, Merlin?" She's looking at him very fondly, and Merlin can't find enough words to make a sentence.

"Ur—"

"I'm so glad we've had this little conversation." Morgana smiles at him and sweeps off in a rustle of fur and silk while Merlin stands in the middle of the corridor and tries to make sense of it all.

He's fairly sure Morgana thinks she's clearly told him what the problem is and what he can do about it, but it's in that special vague language women use, and Merlin's never been able to master it. When he asks Gaius about it later, he laughs and tells him no man can ever truly learn that language, and that is the wonder, and curse, of women.

Merlin seems doomed to be surrounded by people who can't say anything straightforward.

*

He tries to ask Gwen. "Why does everyone seem to think it's my fault Arthur's so bad-tempered these days?"

Gwen blushes, twists her skirt between her hands, and looks everywhere but at Merlin.

"I, um, well." She flushes even redder, and Merlin takes pity on her.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he says, and leaves her, even more bemused.

*

He tries the Great Dragon next.

"I know you see things that humans don't. And you always seem to know what's going on in the castle. So why is Arthur so irritable, and what can I do about it?"

"You can fulfil your destiny," the dragon intones sonorously.

"Well, yes, I'm trying to do that all the time. It's my job to protect him. But that's not doing anything to make him better tempered."

"A destiny is not always a single path."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Thanks. You're such a help, as ever."

The dragon chuckles as he takes off with a clank of chains. "You're not a boy any more, Merlin," he calls out in the distance, his voice echoing around the cave.

*

It's the knights who finally make matters clear. They don't have Gwen's delicate sensibilities or the dragon's fondness for talking in riddles.

"Arthur needs to get laid, and soon," Sir Lavain says. They all nod, and look at Merlin.

"What's that got to do with me?" he asks, and they all laugh. "Oh," Merlin says. He thinks his ears are probably flaming red.

*

Gaius keeps Merlin busy the next day, for which Merlin is unusually grateful.

Until Gaius looks up from his work. "I want you to go to Arthur," he says.

"Not you too," Merlin cries. "Don't tell me you think I should sleep with him?"

Gaius cocks an eye. "I was merely going to suggest you take him this potion. He's been looking tired lately, and this should help him to sleep."

"Oh." Merlin wishes he knew a spell to turn himself invisible.

Gaius smiles broadly, and hands him a small potion bottle. "Go on then," he says.

*

Arthur's in his room. Looking out of the window, the tension in his back visible. Whatever it is that's making him this tense—Merlin tries not to think about the reason the knights gave, not when he's in the same room as Arthur—Merlin wishes he could do something about it.

"I've brought you a draught from Gaius," Merlin calls out, setting it on the table. "He says it should help you sleep."

Arthur nods, and waves his hand as if to motion Merlin out.

Merlin ignores it. He moves quietly around the room and starts to tidy things away, turns down the bed and fetches a warming stone for it, pours fresh water into the bowl beside Arthur's bed and puts out clean towels.

"What are you doing, Merlin?" Arthur asks eventually, though it's dark enough outside that he must be able to see Merlin in the reflection in the window.

"Getting your room ready, Sire." He finds himself using the title without irony for once.

"You can leave. It's late."

"I'm fine. Just doing my job."

Arthur huffs. Merlin hears him clearly. He just wishes he knew what the huff meant. He also wishes he knew a spell for reading minds.

"I'll just carry on then."

"As you wish," Arthur says.

"Or I could go," Merlin tries. He doesn't want to leave, and he doesn't _think_ Arthur wants him to leave.

"Whatever." Arthur shrugs, still gazing out into the dark courtyard, where he surely can't see a thing.

"Aren't you supposed to be bossier than this?" Merlin asks.

"There are some things you don't order a servant to do," Arthur says quietly, and maybe he doesn't mean Merlin to hear him, or maybe he means to be ambiguous, but for once Merlin gets it. That Arthur's asking, in his own round about way.

"You could always ask," Merlin suggests, moving towards the window and Arthur.

Arthur turns around. "I don't like taking no for an answer," he says, a warning.

Merlin grins. "That's all right then. I wasn't going to say no."

"Merlin, we are on the same page here, right?" Arthur asks, and he's very solemn now. When he looks like this, Merlin doesn't have to try hard to imagine him as a great king. "Because if you think we're talking about cleaning my boots, or—"

"Polishing your sword, maybe?" Merlin says, and grins, because this whole conversation is far too serious.

Arthur tilts his head and his mood brightens. He matches Merlin's grin. "I just hope you're not as clumsy with this sword," he says, strides over to Merlin, and kisses him. Very thoroughly. And without any need whatsoever to stop, which Merlin thinks is good, because the only thought he's got left in his brain is to keep on doing this.

Until Arthur reaches into Merlin's britches, and then all Merlin wants is more of that.

It turns out that they're _both_ rather clumsy when they're rushing, and if it weren't for the judicious and very subtle use of magic, Merlin doubts they'd ever manage to get naked. Or at the very least there'd have been more bruising.

They don't make it to the bed until afterwards.

It's very pleasant in Arthur's bed. Soft warm sheets, and Arthur's chest—which is muscular and softly haired and Merlin secretly thinks is perfect—as a pillow.

"I hope this means you're not going to be jealous any more," Arthur says smugly.

Merlin doesn't register the words at first—it's difficult with Arthur's arms wrapped around him, and his hand sliding up and down Merlin's spine. Then, "what? Jealous? Me?" he exclaims. "That's ridiculous."

Arthur just laughs. "It was patently obvious, Merlin. All those stunts you pulled whenever I so much as looked at anyone else."

"You were doing more than looking with some of them," Merlin mutters, his stomach curdling uncomfortably as he thinks about it, and that's when it clicks. Damn it, Arthur's right. "Oh," Merlin says.

Arthur's actually stroking Merlin's hair now, which feels astonishingly good. He doesn't seem to notice he's doing it. "Let's hope this goes more smoothly," he says, and kisses Merlin again.

"Oh, I think it will," Merlin says, and demonstrates how smooth he can be.

"Ngngh," Arthur says.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to curtana. First published December 2008.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Four Times Merlin Cock-Blocked Arthur, and One Time He Didn’t / written by oxoniensis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/226029) by [EosRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EosRose/pseuds/EosRose)




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